


Sing the pirate's gospel

by girlwithabird42



Series: Once more for the ages [28]
Category: Black Sails, Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Family Fluff, Gen, Historical Research, Pirates, nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 07:57:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19224934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlwithabird42/pseuds/girlwithabird42
Summary: Cassie is obsessed with Libertalia's one female founder.  Like her parents, she needs to dig deeper.





	Sing the pirate's gospel

“Who gives homework over spring break?” Cassie half whines over breakfast the morning before they leave.

  _Stupid Mr. Clifford, that’s who._

“Plenty of people,” mom says hurriedly cleaning up the table, mind clearly more focused on last-minute packing.  “You’ll be in high school next year, then it’s always going to happen.”

Cassie knows that.  She was just looking forward to more time on the exploratory missions rather than the hotel in Cork.

“What’s the assignment?” dad asks, putting an encouraging hand on her arm.

Cassie blows a raspberry, hair fluttering out of her eyes.  “I have to write a paper on a historical figure from the early modern era.  I was gonna do Anne Bonny.”

It’s obvious, but Cassie can’t help it.  Ever since mom and dad told her about their discovery of Libertalia, she’s been obsessed with the city’s one female founder.

Dad sighs, maybe a little tired of hearing about the pirate.  “Hon, that’s nice, but outside of you know, _us_ , no one knows her fate.  And Mr. Clifford is gonna hate you only putting us down as your references again.”

Cassie has some thoughts about where Mr. Clifford can stick his references, but bites her tongue on that point.

“But she was important!  The only woman –”

Mom puts up a warning finger.  “Don’t start.  We’ve got a flight to be on in twelve hours and I know you haven’t gotten your laundry out of the dryer.”

Usually mom lets her rant about the spectacularly unbalanced council of the pirate city, so she really must be stressed about the trip.  Cassie tries not to stomp back to her room, Vicky close on her heels.

She’s more stuffing than folding her clothes into her suitcase when mom appears in the doorway.

“Hey, we’ll see if we can get an extra researcher pass for the university library.  After Monday, dad and I’ll help you find someone _really cool_ and you can cite some old book Mr. Clifford’s never heard of.”

Cassie smiles weakly and nods.  “Sounds good.”

Still, as she’s packing her backpack for the plane, Cassie grabs the book on pirates her bemused grandparents got her for her last birthday.  She’s already read it cover to cover and made corrections on the dozen entries.  She looks from the book to Vicky, head cocked inquisitively, then back to the book.

“Oh whatever,” she mutters, sticking the book in her backpack.

Neither mom or dad make a comment when they see her slip it out in the low light of the red eye.  Cassie gets through a few pages of the introduction before drifting off.

When she peeks her eyes open in the middle of the flight, mom’s asleep, but dad’s reading the book.

\----------

Most freshmen want to go to the beach over break, but when you live at the beach, and your parents’ job is to literally go to every corner of the world, you wind up on a boat, sweater pulled up to your ears on the Celtic Sea.  Cassie wouldn’t have it any other way.

When the sonar pings, dad grins.  “Aaand there’s our Viking wrecks, next step Viking horde.  Eat your heart out, Ballard.”

Cassie lies on an out-of-the-way bench while the ship and camera crew work all around.  She chews on her thumbnail listening to her parents over the radio.

“There’s way too much silt churning up.  We’ve got no visibility,” dad’s voice crackles in the static.

“We’ll have to dive again tomorrow,” mom says in agreement.

So much for the library.  Unless – Cassie reminds mom when they get back to the boat, peeling off the thick wetsuits.

“You’re right,” mom winces.

“It’s okay, I can go by myself,” Cassie says in her most mature voice, posture as straight as possible.

“You sure, kiddo?” mom asks.

Cassie nods vigorously.  “It’s oh-kaay.”

“Try not to get our passes revoked when you piss off the archivist,” dad teases, planting a very, very cold kiss on the top of Cassie’s head.

She yelps and swats at him.  Hard.

\----------

After the churn of the seas the day before, the library is still to the point of making Cassie anxious.  Sure she’s got to get her homework done, but it’s gonna take _forever_ here.

The librarian doesn’t outwardly make a stink when Cassie presents the paperwork, but her mouth’s in the thin line all librarians in old movies from the 1980s have.

“Pencil only, no photos, and we have a strict glove policy with anything pulled from anywhere but the stacks.”

Cassie drops her backpack at a desk with a too-loud thunk.  The two other students also there at the buttcrack of dawn look up, startled.

“Sorry,” Cassie mouths.  She can feel the librarian burning holes in her back.

Pulling her binder out, her eye catches the pirate book, dad’s plane ticket acting as a bookmark.  She flips it open and there in the margins are two new doodles.  One’s a pirate that looks suspiciously like mom and the other’s definitely Cassie in a tricorn hat, sticking her tongue out.  Cassie smirks, then quickly shuts the book, just in case the librarian thinks _she_ defaced a book.

She ducks into the stacks, running her fingers along the hundreds of uneven spines.  She doesn’t really know what she’s looking for and more hoping the answer will magically appear in front of her.

Daydreaming like she is, she completely misses the student sitting cross-legged on the floor and trips on them.  Luckily – or not, rock-climbing classes have taught her better, she catches herself on the shelf before she can tumble over the woman on the floor and really get herself in trouble.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Cassie hisses, totally embarrassed.

The woman lets out a low chuckle and in an Irish lilt, “Don’t worry about it.”  Squinting at Cassie, “Though should I be worried about a child studying at university beating me out for scholarships?”

Cassie laughs, small and nervous, “Nah, I’m here because my parents are.  Doing homework, just like you.”

“American, eh?  What’s your focus?  I’ll trade you a dissertation on gender mutability in the late seventeenth-century Atlantic World.”

Cassie stutters, “I just need to write a five page paper on someone between, like, 1500 and 1800.”

“Getting a person down to five pages is tough – my sympathies.”  The woman stands, dusting off her pants.  “Well, I’m getting absolutely nowhere, maybe I can give you a hand.  I’m Fiona, by the way,” she offers a hand.

Cassie shakes it.  “Cassie.”

“Nice to meet you.  Might you have a person in mind?”

Cassie huffs, “I _wanted_ to do Anne Bonny, but my parents said –” she catches herself mid-thought.  “There isn’t enough to fill five pages on her.”

Fiona chews on her lip, “Unless you wanted to pad it out with the Nassau pirate rebellion since it’s assumed she was present for that, even if things get muddled after Charles Vane and Edward Teach’s executions.”  A pause.  “You know she was from around here, yeah?”

Cassie totally forgot, caught up in only imagining adventure on the high seas.  A case of Uncle Sam, Sully calls it.  “Yup.”

Fiona starts moving back to the main part of the library, “It isn’t Anne, but there’s some interesting biographical sketch books in the archives.  It’s Victorian so a lot of it’s rubbish, but there’s usually a seed of something worthwhile in there.”

Fiona approaches the librarian, Cassie keeps a step behind.

“Can you pull the 1839 _Lives of Englishmen_ from the Kane collection for my friend here, Mary?” Fiona jerks her head back in Cassie’s direction.

When Mary returns with a heavy volume, she looks over her glasses at Cassie.  Sharply, “Gloves.”

Cassie holds her gloved hands up almost in surrender.  It’s weird, ever since she learned Uncle Sam isn’t the only Drake who spent time in prison, it’s hard not imagine dad, younger, and in the same position.

“Be careful with the spine.  It’s original.”  Cassie could say ‘no shit’.  Instead, she raises her eyebrows.

Fiona’s on her way back to her own table when she turns and waves a pencil in Cassie’s direction.  “Your parents are on TV aren’t they?”

It’s a common question and it’s always weird.  “Yeah.”

“I knew you seemed familiar.”  Fiona turns around, leaving Cassie with the book.

It’s boring, which isn’t surprising given Fiona’s warning, but Cassie presses forward.  It smells like it hasn’t entirely been rid of mold and every creak in the spine makes a bead of sweat run down Cassie’s back.

She’s on the verge of dozing off when she turns to a new page, there’s a folded piece of paper pressed in between.  Curious, Cassie gently tugs it out and an indent remains where the note may have lived for two hundred years.

She squints, unable to read the faded ink, much less through her smudged glasses.  She quickly wipes the lenses off with her shirt and inspects the writing closer.

_Phil._

Okay, so Phil got bored and wrote his name on a scrap.  Cassie does that in school all the time.

It’s then her eye catches a slightly raised image on the paper, almost like a seal.  A stamp.  It’s a letter.

Cassie carefully unfolds the paper, unwilling to pry apart its now natural position.  The writing on the inside is little better than on the outside, but still slightly easier to make out.  Thankfully the writer was much more careful with their letters than Cassie is with her chicken scratch handwriting.

_4 mo. 28 1727 anno Domi._

_My dear A____

_It is of little surprize our Friend Evory shewed himself a disagreeable Tyrant, but we have seen the corruption Utopia can put in mens hearts I am only thankfull for your safe return to the Cape and wish Evory and Tew a swift delivery Below._

_Mark is a capable leftnt th o not to my Particulars.  The Guthrie Woman has need of the _Dawn _to Bombay for an assort. of chints and Callicoes laugh if you will G__ knows I have but it is coin to keep us afloate._

_I am &c John Rack _☠️

The library is completely silent, but there’s a loud ringing in Cassie’s ears like when dad yells at her to turn her music down and she’s frozen in place.  Holy _shit_.

A letter that mentions Thomas Tew and Henry Avery – sure it’s spelled weird, but whatever.  And Cassie would bet what Sully claims remains of her inheritance from him that Jack Rackham wrote this to Anne _flipping_ Bonny.

Who didn’t die at Libertalia.  Who lived to sail and fight another day.

This is really must be what mom and dad feel when they find something.  No wonder they love their job.

Cassie’s mouth is dry, but she might be coming back to her senses.  She looks around the room to see if anyone else is aware of this earth-shattering revelation, but other than one more researcher, no one notices anything.

As stealthily as she can, Cassie slips her phone out and snaps a picture of both sides.  She folds the letter and tucks it back into place, noting the pages in the book.

She’s not going to get anything done today or possibly ever.

Cassie scurries to the circulation desk, overly careful in placing the book in front of Mary.

“Gloves,” Mary reminds her as Cassie tries to bolt for the door.

“Right, sorry.”

Cassie lets out a high-pitched squeal of delight, safely outside of the building, then books it back to the hotel, throwing open mom’s laptop and uploading the pictures from her phone.

She fiddles with the contrast in the photo editor for what could be hours, pouring over every square inch of the letter.  Some Googling helps her identify the embossed stamp as a Philadelphia tax stamp – so no bored Phil in 1727.

Cassie can’t get over the tiny skull and crossed swords next to Jack Rackham’s name.  She keeps staring at it, until something catches her eye in one of the edited photos, like more writing.  After more tweaks, it becomes obvious it’s in a different hand, less precise than Rackham’s.

_cock robin_

She’ll… just point that out to her parents when they get back.  She’s not saying that word in front of them.

Her phone buzzes beside her on the bed.  Cassie finally tears her eyes away from the laptop.  She’s missed a bit in the group chat.

**[Mom 1:01 PM]** WE GOT EM 🎉🎉🎉

**[Mom 1:03 PM]** Celebratory fish n chips tonight!!!!

**[Mom 1:03 PM]** Dad says extra chips bc he wants to go into potato coma

**[Dad 1:10 PM]** 🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟

**[Mom 1:10 PM]** Yes it took your father that long to find the right emoji

**[Mom 2:49 PM]** You ok Cass?

Despite mom being the last text, Cassie dials dad.  He may be bordering on technologically illiterate, but he always seems to pick up an actual call faster than mom.

“Everything alright?”  Dad’s voice on the other end is half drowned out by clattering on the boat.

“Hello to you too,” Cassie snorts.

“Sorry, we’re a little distracted over here.  You know, making sure we have all the information before we abandon the site until June.”

“That’s exciting.  Can we get those fish and chips to go though?”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.”  Cassie can’t hide the nervous excitement in her voice, “I found something big today too and I wanna show it to you and mom.”

“Oh yeah?”  He yells away from the phone, “It’s been a big day for all the Fisher-Drakes!”

Cassie can’t hear mom’s response.

“Listen, I gotta go.  We should be back by six if you can hang tight until then.  Love you.”

“Love you too.”

\----------

There’s nothing to do but hang tight.  Cassie alternates between staring at the pictures of the letter, pacing, and flipping channels on the hotel TV as fast as she can.

She realizes far too late she should have said thank you to Fiona for the help, even before she discovered Rackham’s letter, then doubly so after.

When the door finally opens and her parents walk through, Cassie pounces.  “You both smell awful.”

“Thanks Cassie,” mom says dryly, letting go of the hug.

Dad holds up brown bags, “I’ve got the food, so your mom and I can either shower now and then we can eat or you can fill us in on your mystery now.  I don’t know about you, Elena, but as soon as I sit down I’m not moving for the night.”

“Same,” mom groans.

“I found a letter!” Cassie blurts out, dropping the laptop in front of them on the bed.

Dad and mom both sit down, fumbling for their reading glasses in the backpack.  They don’t say anything specific to Cassie, but mutter things like ‘yeah’ and ‘see?’ pointing at the screen.

After an eternity dad looks up.  “Cassandra, did you take these pictures in spite of the no photos policy?”

Cassie raises a nostril in annoyance.  “Yeah.”

Dad reaches out, putting a hand on each arm.  “I am.  So.  Proud.”

“Jesus, Nate,” mom laughs.  Then to Cassie, “This is huge, baby.”

“I swear I didn’t go looking on purpose,” Cassie prefaces her discovery.  “It just happened.”

“That’s the best kind though,” dad says.  “So not only did you find proof of Jack Rackham after 1720, Anne made it off Libertalia after the revolt.”

“Did you even count all the bodies at the table?” Cassie ask, maybe a little snarky.

“There could have been a double!” Dad protests, then looks sheepish, “We were in a bit of a rush at the time.”  He looks at mom with a half grin and takes a dramatic bite of fry, “Bonny and Rackham were _lovers_ you know.”

Mom groans and Cassie’s ears go hot.  Dad snickers to himself.

Once mom’s collected herself, she’s back to examining the letter.  “Corrupted Utopia –”

“Probably the Nassau rebellion of the late 1710s, which we definitively have ledgers listing Rackham’s involvement, so it’s a good guess Bonny was there too,” dad rattles off.  “You know Robert Louis Stevenson stole like _half_ those guys’ names –”

“Yes dear, you’re very smart,” mom says absently patting dad’s shoulder.

“And maybe Anne wasn’t at that rebellion just because Jack was,” Cassie butts in.  “She didn’t have to do every he did just because they –” Cassie vaguely gestures.

Both mom and dad chuckle, but dad concedes.  “It’s a fair point.  Clearly she went on and passed Avery’s tests and he didn’t.”

“He was in Philadelphia when she was in Libertalia,” Cassie adds.  “I checked the marks on the front.”

“Speaking of – poor Mark, not living up to Rackham’s standards,” mom says in sympathy.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about that,” Cassie explains.  “I think that might be Mary Read, like the only other famous female pirate and known to sail with both of them.  She went by Mark a lot.”

Dad points a finger gun at Cassie, “I… did not think of that.”

“C’here,” mom waves Cassie close and hugs her tight.

“Moooom.”

“Tough it out.  I’m proud of you.  We’re proud of you.”

Still squished against her mom’s collarbone, “I’m gonna have to tell the stick-in-the-mud librarian about it tomorrow.  I didn’t let her know.”

“Well, we can be there as backup if she breaks out a ruler,” dad assures Cassie.

“She’s a librarian, not a nun,” mom points out.

“In my experience they’re cut of similar cloth.”

They remain crowded on the one bed, eating awkwardly out of the takeout boxes and discussing all the excitement of the day from Viking gold to eighteenth-century correspondence.  Until the French fry coma hits Cassie.

When she drifts back to consciousness, she doesn’t open her eyes, preferring to hear her parents’ low discussion uninterrupted.

“You can totally tell how much he cared for her,” mom says.  “Tell me that wasn’t a man who’s ready to be side-by-side as soon as possible.”

“She called him a cock.”

“Yeah, and?”

Dad chuckles.  The mattress shifts under Cassie as dad starts to move.

Strained, “I really do need a shower or I’m going to be completely stiff and useless tomorrow.”

“Go ahead, I’ll be there in a minute,” mom murmurs.

Cassie doesn’t remember anything after that, only waking to the room’s coffeepot making loud gurgles.

\----------

Mary’s mood doesn’t seem to have improved since Cassie saw her last, and mom and dad’s presence isn’t necessarily helping.

“So I think I found something unusual in that book yesterday and wanted my parents to check it out.  And you too,” Cassie hastily adds.

“Remember you gotta act like you haven’t seen it,” she hisses to both of them when Mary disappears into the locked archive.  Dad gives a tiny salute.

They all crowd around the table as Mary opens the book to the page and Cassie holds her breath as the letter is unfolded.

Dad and mom do a decent job of playing dumb, but Mary isn’t noticing anyway, muttering ‘incredible’ over and over.

“This is a _remarkable_ find, young lady, once it’s authenticated,” Mary finally says, taking her glasses off their perch on her nose.  “I’m going to have a talk with my colleagues about a more thorough look at that collection in the near future, lest there are more ah – _pirate_ letters hiding in there.”

Mary takes the letter with her which deflates Cassie a bit, but she still has her contraband snapshots and after all, she had it entirely to herself yesterday.

“It’s official, you have to go to any research institution first and get in their good graces for me,” dad jokes.

Cassie catches sight of Fiona lurking back near the stacks and waves her over.  “Sorry I didn’t say thanks yesterday,” Cassie apologizes.  “You really were a big help.”

“So who’ll you be writing about then?”

“Anne Bonny still.”

“Sticking with it, I like it.”

Cassie makes the introductions and in Fiona’s defense, she’s much more together than some fans they’ve met in the past.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Fiona enthuses.  “Keeping the field exciting and relevant.”

_Don’t say ‘sexy’_ , Cassie silently pleads.  She’s heard that one too many times.

Fiona doesn’t.

“And to the academics who keep us honest,” mom laughs.  “Trust me, my art history minor isn’t enough.”

“Hopefully this one wasn’t too underfoot,” dad musses Cassie’s hair.  She scowls.

“Not at all, quite the opposite.  I looked up from my own work and she’d vanished.”

“Unfortunate family trait,” dad shrugs.

“It was no problem, really.  I had a bit of writers’ block anyway.”

Cassie sucks on her tongue for a second.  “Maybe I know of something that can help?”

\----------

Cassie winds up with a B on the paper.  There isn’t anything really wrong with it and she referenced more than just ‘my parents’, but their inclusion on the works cited was always going to bother Mr. Clifford.

Mom and Fiona bounce a few emails back and forth and they all go out to lunch when they’re back in Cork over the summer, but that’s about it.

It’s not until September when Cassie’s dealing with yet another history teacher who’s out to get her that a large manila envelope shows up in the mail addressed to her.

“You gettin served?” Uncle Sam asks.  “Cause I know a guy.”

A new copy of _Britain and the World_ slides out, but Cassie looks at the post-it first.

_Your mum wanted it to be a surprise – F._

Cassie skims the table of contents, flipping to the appointed page.

“‘Not to my Particulars: Gender at the Dawn of the Enlightenment’ – God what a mouthful,” Uncle Sam mumbles rubbing his forehead, “But look at that: ‘special thanks to Cassandra Fisher-Drake for the final angle this needed’.  Way to go, Cassie.”

Cassie’s shaking again, just like the day she found the letter.  It’s tiny print, but there’s her name in black and white, looking so official.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Cassie launches herself off the couch and out the front door towards the office.  Sensing the excitement, Vicky runs after her, barking wildly.

“Dad!  Mom!  I’m published!”

They hang it on the fridge right next to the paper.

**Author's Note:**

> Did it hurt me a little that the letters in Uncharted don't border on incomprehensible due to no standardized spelling and lack of punctuation? Maybe.


End file.
